


Bite me, BitFit

by shy_violet_soul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 03:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy_violet_soul/pseuds/shy_violet_soul
Summary: Dean is introduced to wearable fitness technology.  It doesn’t go well.





	Bite me, BitFit

**Author's Note:**

> I just recently got a FitBit™. Quite the handy little contraption - because my job is sedentary, the little buzzing reminders on my wrist are good for me to go take a walk. In the midst of a crazy moment, when that thing buzzed, I had to roll my eyes. Then it made me wonder what Dean would think of it. I took some creatively liberties with the actual functionalities of the app/device for the plot. Enjoy!
> 
> This is a work of fiction based on characters owned by CW and their creators. My work is not to be posted elsewhere without my written permission.

Suspicion lasered out of Dean’s narrowed green eyes as he stood there, arms crossed over his chest, while Sam wiggled the slim box in his direction.

“C’mon, Dean. It’ll be good for both of us. It monitors exercise, your sleeping patterns…”

“None of which I do.” “...Steps taken, water intake, calories burned...”

“None of which I care about.”

“And look - we can compete with each other on stats.” Not to be outdone, Sam whipped out his phone, swiping quickly to an app. “See? We can set up a ‘Step Showdown’ or a ‘Workweek Water’ challenge.”

Plucking the phone from Sam’s grasp, Dean scrolled through the app dubiously. “Does the ‘Weekend Warrior’ measure machete swings?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Look, you were just saying how you needed to take better care of yourself.”

“No, you said that.” Dean extended the phone back to him dismissively. “All that fancy fitness crap is your wheelhouse, so go wheel yourself along.”

Pocketing his phone, Sam propped his hands on his hips and sighed as he looked down at the floor. “Well, that’s fine. I figured you wouldn’t be up for it. I mean, with you getting older, I’m sure competitions like this are more of a toll on you.”

“Whoa, hey, what?” “It’s fine, Dean. I kept the receipt. I’ll get you a new heating pad for your shoulder or something.”

Dean scowled as Sam turned to walk away. “You saying I’m too old?” “Now, I didn’t say ‘old’. You just need to be...careful.”

“You’re the one that needs to be careful. I could still whip you five ways from Sunday, Sammy!”

“Dean, hey, it’s fine! We don’t need to have any stupid competitions on which of us is in better shape…”

Stomping forward, Dean snatched the box out of Sam’s hand. “Gimme that!” He glowered at the box for a moment before tossing it on the library table and digging out his phone. “What the hell is the app called?”

“FitBit™.”

“BitFit, fine. I’ll show you who’s in better shape,” he intoned, shooting his brother a glare. Sam merely raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, then turned and hurried off before Dean could see his smirk.

*************************

**Day 1**

“Did you hit your step goal today?” Sam wanted to know.

Dean scoffed where he sat at the kitchen table with his laptop. “Uh, yeah. Like, hours ago.”

Sam frowned in surprise. “Really? ‘Cuz I literally just hit 10,000 after walking around the storage room all day.”

Dean blinked at his brother. “My goal is 3,000.”

“Dean!” His brother cavalierly waved off his protest.

“Hey, you said ‘step goal’. You didn’t say whose step goal.” Bitch Face Level 1 volleyed at Dean as Sam tossed his hands up in disgust.

“You can’t just change the goal after the challenge begins! That’s like cheating!”

“It’s not cheating! It’s...creative interpretation of the ground rules.”

“Dean!” “Fine! I’ll change it to 10,000. Bitch,” he grumbled.

So validated, Sam sniffed in offense. “Jerk.”

**Day 3**

Jaws popping around a yawn, Sam headed for the kitchen and the coffee pot. The unknown case in Wichita Falls, with only blue-eyed victims missing their left eyes and their hair mysteriously purple, meant a lot of caffeine to fuel the lore research. He’d no sooner stepped down into the kitchen when a phone suddenly arrowed into his face.

“HA! Look at that!”

Sam sucked in a breath as he tried to slow his heart rate. “For cryin’ out loud, Dean!”

“Hydrate challenge...completed!” Dean crowed with a swaggering gesture. “Eight glasses, Sammy. Read it and weep.” “You - Dean Winchester - drank eight servings of water, eight ounces each?” his brother side eyed him as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Pocketing his phone, Dean brandished a plastic bottle aloft, shaking the dregs of water in it vigorously. “That’s right. And, no, some of it wasn’t beer,” he griped when Sam quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Good for you, Dean. You win this one,” he praised around a yawn as he trudged back to the library, Dean in tow. Dean pulled a laptop towards him as he sat across from Sam, sending him a confident smile.

“What can I say, Sammy? You shouldn’t mess with the master. Oh, and check this out!” Chugging the last couple of swallows, Dean reopened the app and added his latest bottle to his daily total. The app exploded in confetti and triumphant notes rang out happily. “Ta-dah! Gotta say, this BitFit is pretty cool.”

“It’s FitBit™, Dean.”

“That’s what I said.” Too tired to formulate a comment, Sammy just smiled.

**Day 8**

“Uh-oh.” Dean cracked an eye at the tinny sounding voice. “We’re worried about you.” Frowning his eyes open, Dean groaned as he turned his head and the muscles cricked up painfully. As much as he loved his Baby, sleeping here was hell on his body. He and Sammy had rolled into McCook, Nebraska yesterday after reports of three deaths proved weird enough to be their kind of thing. Three dead guys, working for the same company, burned to a crisp in at the same golf course and one eyewitness groundskeeper swearing he saw a lion at the scene. Awesome. Lore hadn’t turned up any ideas on the monster yet, and the hours on the road had caught up with him. The device on his wrist buzzed, catching his attention as another “uh-oh!” chirped from his phone. Fumbling it up, Dean squinted as the app showed him a very sleep sad face emoji.

“You only got two hours of sleep last night. Remember - you’re at your best with eight!” the app notified dutifully. Dragging himself fully upright, Dean tossed the phone into the passenger seat as he headed to meet up with Sam.

“Shut up, fitness warden,” he grumbled, pulling back onto the road.

**Day 10**

The friendly blue band lit up and buzzed merrily. “Congratulations! You’ve hit 250 steps this hour!” Dean didn’t even flinch as he sprinted through the woods at full tilt, flames licking at his heels in advance of the unearthly roar behind him.

“Sammy!”

“This way, Dean!” The creature dug its claws in, clots of dirt tossing up as it spun to track Dean when he turned a tight corner towards his brother. Snapping its jaws, it growled before giving chase once more.

“Uh-oh! Your heart rate appears to be elevated past the peak rate.” _No shit_. He could feel his heart pounding with every footstep, but when a blast of dragon-lion-monster breath hit the back of his neck, Dean poured on the speed. The ground beneath him rumbled, roiling and quaking in threatening earthquake omens as the chimera behind him roared again. Who knew Greek monsters could pop up in freakin’ Nebraska? “Doing cardio activity past peak level for extended periods hasn’t proved to be beneficial. Stay at the cardio level for maximum impact.”

“I’m about to _maximum impact_ all over the place, godammit! SAM! I’m about to be cat-lizard food!” he blared out.

“Now!” Sam shouted, and his tall frame was suddenly there, crossbow at the ready with a hastily prepared iron spear locked and loaded. “Tuck and roll, Dean!”

His bad shoulder cracked ominously as Dean hit the ground, his trajectory scraping a Dean-sized swipe in the foliage as Sam aimed, fired, and ducked. The iron met the chimera’s spewing flames dead center, arrowing into the heart of the beast. A heartbeat later, it exploded into sparkling, burning bits that dissipated into purple-y, ashy clouds almost instantly. The earthquake stopped in its tracks, leaving the brothers’ spines twitching and ears itching. The trees held nothing but silence as Dean wheezed for oxygen. He could feel his heartbeat all the way in his boots as he rolled over to check on Sam. Twigs poked up out of his ridiculous hair as he gingerly pressed against the knee he’d twisted a few minutes before, sucking at air like it was going out of style. Huffing out a sound that could have been a laugh, Dean nodded when Sam gave him a thumbs up. They did it. They killed the bastard. And they didn’t die this time. Although his lungs felt like they might make a liar out of him in a moment.

Then, into the quiet came two merry voices in stereo. “Congratulations! You’ve hit 10,000 steps! Fastest record yet!” their phones chorused.

Sam groaned as Dean sneezed a leaf out of his nose.

“Bite me, BitFit, you son-of-a-bitch!”


End file.
